


one deep breath

by Siria



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Nemeton, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 11:47:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1509371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siria/pseuds/Siria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"But how," Stiles says between kisses, kisses that leave his mouth, his chin, rubbed stubble-raw, "how can the nemeton even <i>have</i> pollen, it was cut d—"</p>
            </blockquote>





	one deep breath

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to dogeared for betaing!

"But how," Stiles said between kisses, kisses that left his mouth, his chin, rubbed stubble-raw, "how can the nemeton even _have_ pollen, it was cut d—"

"Don't know," Derek said, breaking away for just long enough to pull his henley up over his head and off, and Stiles couldn't help himself from biting at Derek's collarbone because it was _right there_ and Stiles was weak and confused and so, so hard. "Don't care," and he was pressing Stiles up against the side of the jeep, running his hands up under Stiles' t-shirt, up his sides and across his chest. 

Stiles made a noise in the back of his throat, helpless and wanting, reaching down to unbutton his own jeans and shimmy them off his hips as best he could. "Just, you know, just saying this is not how I envisioned our anniversary going." His voice quavered embarrassingly at the scrape of Derek's blunt nails against the soft skin of his belly.

Derek paused and looked at him, cocked an amused eyebrow in a way that very clearly meant _Oh, really?_

"Okay, fine," Stiles said, because lying had never really been his forte and he could feel the heat radiating off Derek's skin, "it was pretty close to this, just with less magical Viagra and an actual bed and—mmpfh!"

Derek kissed Stiles until he was panting, until he was shivering and cursing and more than willing to ignore the hypothetical in favour of the here and now. Two quick tugs and Derek had Stiles' jeans and underwear down around his ankles. The air felt shockingly cool against his bare, overheated skin, and Stiles was so hard that even the way his cock brushed against the hem of his t-shirt was enough to have him close to the edge. He kicked his clothes away impatiently, shucked his t-shirt, saying, "Now you, now you, c'mon, just…"

Derek obliged, and it had been two years but Stiles didn't think he would ever get tired of watching this: the brisk, efficient way that Derek removed his clothes, the way that he looked in the light of a half-moon. Stiles was shaking with want, and when Derek was naked, he pulled him close with clumsy hands, coming as soon as he felt the hard press of Derek's cock against his. 

"Sorry," Stiles said, "sorry," but Derek didn't seem to mind. His hands were clamped tight enough to bruise over Stiles' hips, right where the tattoos curled around from Stiles' back, making Stiles' magic hiss under his skin, and Derek's eyes flared blue in the dim light.

"Again," Derek said. 

"What?" Stiles croaked. His hips were trying to move, the heat in his blood relentless and his cock still hard, but Derek was holding him firm against the side of the jeep. "I don't…" 

"How soon until you can come again like this?" Derek asked, and Stiles could hear the edge of desperation to his voice. "Quicker than normal? Think you could come if I talked you into it? Or you want me to use my mouth?"

"Jiminy Cricket," Stiles said, and Derek apparently interpreted that as meaning 'Option B' because he dropped to his knees. The hot feel of his mouth was enough to have Stiles' eyes rolling back in his head; if not for the hold Derek still had on his hips, his thighs, he would have fallen to the ground. As it was, he couldn't help doubling over, curling around Derek and burying his hands in Derek's hair. His second orgasm wasn't much longer in coming, leaving Stiles feeling winded with pleasure. Derek's mouth on him was almost too much, but the absence when Derek finally pulled away and sat back on his heels was even worse. 

"Come back here," Stiles said, "c'mon, my turn," sinking down so that he was straddling Derek. Pressed this close together, the heat of them was almost overwhelming—Stiles could feel sweat run down his back, dampening his hair—and it all felt so good that he couldn't help grinning. "C'mon, I'm two for oh here, you've got to let me even up the score some."

"Competitive," Derek bit out, and he hissed when Stiles rocked forward deliberately. 

"You know it," Stiles said. The grind of the two of them together was so, so good, and probably tomorrow Stiles would be the only guy hobbling around town with sex-induced friction burns, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "Now, since we've got past evidence that we can do the whole you-coming-from-the-sound-of-my-voice thing without needing the help of any evil tree pollen—"

Derek's eyes fluttered closed, his fingers digging into Stiles' skin, and Stiles laughed to himself, breathlessly, because that had been the _best birthday ever_.

"—Maybe we can try something new."

"You mean other than being sent into an artificial heat by the nemeton?" Derek's hips were thrusting upwards unmistakably now, his cock rubbing against Stiles', and Stiles reached down to fist both of them in his hand. 

"I thought we could work with it," Stiles said, watching avidly as he worked them together, as Derek let out a hoarse grunt and came and came, all over his belly and Stiles' fingers. "See how many we can get through before one of us passes out."

"You are…"

"What?" Stiles asked. 

Derek made another funny little noise, wrapped his arms around Stiles' waist and then flipped them so that Stiles was on his back on the ground, Derek pressing down on top of him. At any other time, Stiles might have protested, whined about the pebbles digging into his back and the grit working its way into his hair but now he just laughed, feeling his next orgasm build low in his belly. 

"Oh, I see how it is," Stiles said, running one hand down the long length of Derek's back, over that incredible ass and back up to rest over the dark curves of the triskele. His own tattoos prickled in a vicarious echo of touch. "Plagiarism! Shameless stealing of one of my best ideas!"

"Yes, Stiles," Derek said, lowering his head to kiss him, and to kiss him again, "that's exactly what it is."

"See?" Stiles said in mock indignation. "You're doing it again! Because I kissed you first—"

Derek cocked an eyebrow at him. "Not how I remember it."

"Well that's just—" but then Derek was kissing him and there was a heat in Stiles' blood fit to fuel the spark that always lived there, and he wrapped his arms around Derek and held on and on and on.


End file.
